


and i'm sorry that i couldn't get to you

by PrincezzShell101



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Inspired by Music, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincezzShell101/pseuds/PrincezzShell101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The call comes in at forty-five minutes to midnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and i'm sorry that i couldn't get to you

**Author's Note:**

> This song is now my demise: Say Something by A Great Big World ft. Christina Aguilera.
> 
> (In my mind, to get the nogitsune out of Stiles, Scott bites him but the bite doesn't take and well… this was the result…)

The call comes in at forty-five minutes to midnight.

Derek's just about dozing off, eyelids one or two flutters from closing 'til morning, when the shrill ring snaps them back open. He sighs heavily, blinding reaching for the offending use of technology, fingers lazily sliding the mobile off the bedside table. When he looks at the bright, lit-up screen flashing  _Scott McCall_ , his breath catches tightly in his vocal cords, his next inhale shaky, a shallow exhale following.

His wolf whimpers petulantly, claws at his ribs like a puppy feebly scratching its paws against a locked back door, trying to get out.

He knows something's wrong even before he presses accept on the call, hand shaking as he raises it to his ear.

"Oh God,  _Derek_." Scott's voice is raw, splitting a fraction over the line, crackling around the edges like there's bad reception wherever he is. Other than that, there's pure, undeniable panic that laces his tone, and it has Derek jumping out of bed, pressing the button for loud speaker and chucking the phone on the bed so he can quickly throw a shirt on.

"Scott, what is it?" he rushes out. He's in the middle of slipping his jeans on, fighting the sweltering worry that eats away at him. His wolf's whimpering is now a constant, shrill whine, claws starting to imbed deep, long gashes that drag down the inside column of his spine, the bones in his body trying to crack and rearrange, to _shift_.

Scott doesn't answer him. There's the sound of harsh breathing coming from the other end of the line, and it sounds like whoever's making the noise is having an internal battle with their own body—fighting for air in a wet, heaving feat for survival.

"D-Derek,  _please_ , you have to get here." When Scott finally manages to reply, his voice is jagged, and the next words he speaks come out as a rattled, shaken sob. "I-It's Stiles."

When Derek bursts through the door to the Stilinski's, he finds Scott crouched down on the floor in a corner of the living room—even with the shadows cloaking his very form, Derek can see that he's trembling, head in his hands, eyes a bright, shimmering crimson. And Derek knows why, can see the tears pooling in the depths of scarlet.

"Scott," he snaps, kneeling down to the boy, grabbing his jaw and jerking his head up to look him in the eyes. Scott's cheeks are stained, dripping with tears. Derek hastily tries to expel the sudden thought that he may have got here too late. "Scott,  _where's_ Stiles."

Scott shakes his head, incoherent words tumbling out of his mouth, tries to slink back and plaster himself further into the corner he's already fully taken up.

Derek gnashes his teeth together in fear and agitation, feels when they slice through his gums, tastes the bitter, salty tang of blood that rolls over his tongue. "Scott,  _answer me_. Where's Stiles!" he yells.

"G-Gone, gone, gone, gone." Scott's biting down on his lip, rocking back and forth on his heels, knees knocking together. "Couldn't save—too much blood—I—I  _tried_ —I'm s-s-sorry."

Derek's eyes burn, his temper becoming harder and harder to control. "Scott! What do you mean?  _Scott_!" Scott doesn't show that he's heard Derek at all, just continues to sway to and fro, eyes wide and unblinking, red glimmer dying in them until they're just a tear-blurred haze of chocolate brown.

Derek's nostrils flare, and a familiar scent assaults his senses. His wolf howls, the sound like glass shattering behind his eardrums.

 _Stiles_.

Derek abandons Scott, follows the trail of sweat-soaked skin and acidic rust. It leads him upstairs, and he pauses at Stiles's bedroom door. The scent here is so overwhelming that Derek's eyes water, and his whole body vibrates on the spot, afraid to take another step.

_What if I'm too late? W-What if—what if he's d—_

"D—Der—ek."

A voice rasps in a small whisper, and the sour odour of blood intensifies.

Derek freezes, heart pelting against his lungs. His hand reaches, grasps for the doorknob but comes up empty because it's shaking too much. On the third attempt Derek manages to grab hold, twists, knuckles clenching over the handle.

But he stops, when he hears it.

 _Silence_.

There's no heartbeat from behind the door, not even a soft, fluttering  _tha-thump_. Nothing.

The air around him is suddenly compacted, choking him in.

Derek's knees crumple beneath him, and he slides down the door, to the floor in a shuddering mess. His head bangs against the door frame, chest racking with a flurry of high, gasping breaths.

_His mate is gone…_


End file.
